Queen of Brooklyn: Ellis Then
by Brooklyn'sQueen
Summary: Spot Conlon, leader of the Brooklyn newsies, has been lonely ever since his last girlfriend, Caroline, mysteriously disappeared. And then a Manhattan newsie decides to join Brooklyn: Ellis Then. Can Spot put aside his fear over Caroline and focus on the present? He's doing a good job of it. . . until Caroline reappears. . . .
1. Chapter 1

SPOT

I had always known I was avoided a little bit by the other newsies for being from Brooklyn, especially Jackie boy, but being snubbed because of it hurt. I laughed a little, leaning on the iron railing atop the fire escape. Someday, when the strike was over and I could afford more marbles, Jackie boy was gonna get one right 'tween the eyes. Then would he insult Brooklyn?

I stared out into the ink-black night sky, scattered with diamond stars. They were hard to see from all the 'Hattan haze. In Brooklyn, when you laid on the wet sand with the tide pounding behind you, you could see as clearly as if you were an angel in heaven.

So Brooklyn had its faults. I still loved it. But stupid Pulitzer had to raise the price of the papes, and Jackie boy convinced his newsies to strike. He'd sent Boots and Walking Mouth over to the Piers and told me about it. I'd saved 'Hattan's butts more than once. As my reward, I couldn't head back to Brooklyn until the strike was over.

It could go on for weeks. Months. Years. Brooklyn was just too far away to walk back and forth every single lousy day, and who knew when I would see the Piers again?

I choked and turned away from the railing to face a girl. Great. This was not what I needed. Girls seemed to love me and I didn't want to deal with more moony eyes. "What are ya doin' out here?" I said, sounding more hostile than I'd meant to. Then I saw her face.

Whoa.

She was tall and slender while being two or three inches shorter than me. The golden hair that tumbled down her slim shoulders was lit from behind by the lights of the mansion; it looked like a crown. Her eyes, blue-gray like the Atlantic Ocean that surrounded the Piers in Brooklyn, were blazing with happiness.

She was the most beautiful girl I had ever seen in my entire life. And that was saying a lot. She looked like a queen.

Her scarlet lips tugged at a smile. "Jack told me you were out here. I've always wanted to talk to you."

"Really?" I said, my mood changing like lightning at the mention of Jackie boy's name. I scowled. "Ya knows who I am?"

"Spot Conlon?" She crossed and stood next to me on the fire escape. She was dressed rather unorthodoxly, in a white shirtwaist and a scandalously short red knee-length skirt. "King of Brooklyn?"

I nodded. What was wrong with me? Why was I talking to her? She was just another girl who adored me- there were hundreds. Especially after word of Brooklyn showing up and saving 'Hattan thanks to the great judgement of yours truly- "Never fear, Brooklyn's here!" I'd said. Every girl in the city had headed to the Piers. I'd had to break out the cane. Apparently that made them even more goo-goo eyed. Brooklyn had had a field day

"And you are?" I said.

She spit in her hand and held it out. I grinned, spit in my own hand, and shook her outstretched hand. Her touch was soft, light, feathery. "Grace Johnson. But call me Gracie. That's what my friends all do."

"So what's a nice goil like ya doin' at Kloppman's?" I asked, trying for polite conversation instead of busting out the slingshot.

"Oh, I'm a newsie." Gracie stared morosely into the distance.

"Ya don't sound too excited about that."

Gracie laughed. It was short, and sounded a little rusty, as if she hadn't had cause to laugh in a long time. "Well. My family all died, and I heard this was the easiest way to make a living. So here I am. I never really wanted to work in Manhattan. All these boys, just interested in-" She blushed. "I've always wanted to sell in- in Brooklyn, actually."

I was thrilled. Somebody else who loved Brooklyn besides us newsies! "Will you, then? Brooklyn's pretty great."

"I'd love to." Gracie paused. "If you'll have me. If I'm not too much trouble. If this strike ever ends. If all the boys there are different-"

"You're no trouble at all, we really need ya, and all the kids are real nice," I said immediately. "You're gonna love Brooklyn. But it'll be hard, ya know. It's tough enough for us boys, but you're a goil. I don't know. If ya really want to, ya'll make it.

Gracie looked at me- a good, hard look. "You really love it, don't you?"

"Best place on earth," I answered, smiling at the mention of it.

"What's so great about it?"

I was lost in a dream world. "It's just papes and sun and sky and water. Especially water, everywhere. And goils. They make great goils in Brooklyn. And ya can be whoever ya want, as long as ya want, and nobody will stop ya, and, and. . . . There's no greater sound than a marble hittin' a glass bottle, and that's all ya hear in Brooklyn. Or the way your blood drips on the cobblestones for the foist time. . . ."

I was gone, floating above the clouds. Brooklyn was the tough borough for a reason. We trained newsies from a young age how to soak a scab, and soak 'em good. When you were an orphan in a scary, dangerous part of New York where you could get killed if you weren't careful... well. We had to be tough, or else we'd be dead. All the other boroughs looked up to us. They saw us as an unstoppable army. Reinforcements. We made or broke the strike.

Gracie gave me another grin. I came crashing down from my Brooklyn fantasies and into the real world. "Wanna know why I love Brooklyn?"

I indulged in a smile. The first in a long time. "Sure."

"My great-grandparents came over here from England, past Ellis Island. They had second thoughts about America when my great-grandmother got mugged five minutes into their new lives. Then they looked into the horizon-"

At my confused look, she clarified. "The place where sea meets sky. It was purple and gold and orange and blue. All the colors bled together. Then they saw the Piers and the rest of Brooklyn, and then they had hope. They knew living with anything that beautiful was worth everything they had suffered."

"Wow," I said. "That's. . . different."

She gave a rueful smile. "Sorry. I get a little wrapped up in stories. History is just so fascinating to me. If it weren't for me being a woman, I'd love to be an archaeologist." The smile turned bitter. "At least I'll get to tell stories to my kids. If I have any."

"Pretty goil like ya'll have no trouble. You've probably got Mush and Blink's pants in a knot already. Ya'll have a million kids." I waved away her worries, then realized what I'd just said. "I mean- uh-"

"No, it's okay," Gracie said, stifling a genuine smile this time. "Oh, and one other thing. I was hoping you'd give me a newsie name. Since I'll be working for you, and all."

"Ellis, then," I replied with a little smirk.

"What?"

My smirk crawled up the side of my face. I couldn't help it. "Ya said your great-grandma got mugged near Ellis Island. Ellis, then."

Gracie blinked. "Wait. You mean Ellis?" She smirked too. "Never mind. Just call me Ellis Then."

"Done," I grinned arrogantly. "But just me. Any of them try to call ya Ellis Then- I soak 'em. You're Ellis to them."

"What about Mush and Blink?" asked Ellis Then innocently.

We shared a laugh and kept talking.

POV- ELLIS THEN

I still couldn't believe my luck.

Not only did I get to sell in my favorite borough, the kick-butt one, I had befriended its leader and he had given me my newsie name. Poor Spot. He really did need a friend. I was more than willing to fill that slot.

He had to be the most attractive boy I'd ever seen. Mush and Jack were pretty cute, but Spot was in a class all his own. That blonde-brown hair of his, and his permanent pout. What really killed me was his eyes: shining a silvery color somewhere between blue and green, sharp as a knife's edge against his dirty tanned face.

Spot Conlon was just so intimidating. Yet he had felt intimidated by me. Yes, I had seen it. I'd have to be blind to miss the jaw drop, the way his incredible eyes stretched wide, the look of disbelief.

I'd never felt so blessed in my entire life.

Smugly, I rolled over in bed and went to sleep, where, unsurprisingly, I dreamed of Brooklyn.


	2. Chapter 2: Slingshot War

POV- SPOT

"Wes got our pitcha in da papes?" Jackie boy cried out. He snatched the newspaper from Denton's hands. "Look at me! That's my face!"

The strike was going well. I only participated in the next song/dance number because it meant we could be heading back to Brooklyn soon. The strike was almost over, Pulitzer was ready to give in-

As we launched into the next chorus, "Look at me, I'm the king of New York!" Ellis Then came downstairs.

I glimpsed dark blue and craned my neck to see. As a result, when I jumped off of the table, I hit the fan and I let loose a string of curses.

Her hair was curled into ringlets. It was a nice look for her. The gold sheen of her hair stood brightly against the deep blue of her unusual dress. It was knee-length again, but long-sleeved. The color brought out the aching blueness of her eyes. Thinking of where I'd seen that color before whisked me back to Brooklyn.

The Piers were empty. A summer storm was blowing overhead, thunder booming in the sky. Ignoring the rain, I sat on the beach nearby. The sand was like cement, keeping me stuck in a sitting position. A beautifully freezing cold mist drenched me, cutting through the sticky summer heat that plagued Brooklyn.

Her eyes were the mist: glistening, floating, wonderfully cold. I wanted to keep that mist alive. I wanted to shelter her, hide the truth from her. Life as a girl newsie was gonna be tough, especially on some pretty little girl. But that wasn't part of my nature. No matter who she was or what effect she had on me, Ellis Then was just going to be another newsie to me. I didn't have room in my life for a queen of Brooklyn.

Even though hundreds of girls had asked.

She descended the staircase regally with her hand squealing on the banister as she dragged it down, those misty gray-blue eyes sparkling with stifled laughter. I wondered sadly when they would stop sparkling; when she broke her first glass bottle; when a scab soaked her and she came home with a bloody face the first time; when she first jumped off the Piers and trusted herself to the Atlantic Ocean? The newsies's dancing suddenly improved a thousand times. They threw themselves about with crazy abandon.

Ellis Then waited patiently until the end of the song. It occured to me just how pretty she was. I tore my thoughts off of When will her eyes stop shining? Will it be my fault? and finished the song. What was wrong with me? I'd sworn off girls. They were too much trouble.

Jackie boy was the closest to her. Grabbing her and turning her around to face him, he held her hand in a death grip and pressed it to his mouth. She looked shocked and a little angry. Clearly he hadn't done this before.

"Gracie. A pleasure, as always," he said with a soft smile.

I couldn't help but smirk at Ellis Then's barely concealed look of pain as Jackie boy didn't let go. "Actually, Jackie boy, her name is Ellis now."

"Aw, Spot, don't make things up." He didn't even look up.

"He's not. When Spot and I were talking on the fire escape last night-"

Jackie boy dropped her hand like a hot potato. "Ya and Spot on the fire escape?" He shot me a jealous stare. "Movin' up in the world, Conlon? Gettin' youseself a lady?"

If he could have done anything to make Ellis Then even madder, this was it. She backed away from him, eyes glittering like jewels. "I'm not a lady, Jack! I'm a newsie! How many times do I have to tell you? That's why I'm selling in Brooklyn, and not here!"

A giant whoop went up from the Brooklyn newsies, led by me. 'Hattan looked dejected, Blink and Mush most of all.

"But ya're still stayin' heah till after the strike?" pleaded Mush. "So us 'Hattaners'll see ya around?"

"Maybe," Ellis Then conceded. In that moment she looked exactly like the queen I'd seen when I'd first met her.

Jackie boy's face was contorted. "But I- I was runnin' away to Santa Fe with ya! I mean, I uh-"

Ellis Then gave him a deadly stare. "If you need me-"

"It's not fair," muttered Kid Blink under his breath.

"I'll be with Spot."

This was news. "Where are ya goin'?" Race asked.

"Out," I said disdainfully. "If ya really want to know, I'm teachin' her how to use a slingshot. Then she'll really be Brooklyn."

Though Ellis Then was clearly shocked, she hid it well. She turned to me and grinned like the Cheshire cat. "Yes! I've always wanted to learn about slingshots!"

As we turned and left Kloppman/Tibby's, I heard a stifled sob-snicker from Mush.

ELLIS THEN

I'd hoped Spot would show me around town, maybe. A nice walk somewhere. Really anywhere away from Jack and his disgusting "manners." Slingshots were not exactly what I'd had in mind, but if it meant I'd truly be Brooklyn, I'd do anything.

Spot ducked into a corner of an alleyway. "Here we go," he said.

"What? I thought your stuff was all back in Brooklyn," I responded.

"Yeah. I just keep some here in case I ever get. . . .bored." Spot pulled out his slingshot and a marble. "This one's a real good shooter."

I watched in amazement as he pulled back his slingshot and fired at a line of glass bottles. He hit all three of them. And he had maintained eye contact with me the entire time.

"How do you do that?" I asked, suddenly two years old again and jealous of my older sister Rose's skills with avoiding the million boys she attracted.

He smirked. "Magic."

I grinned. "Can I try?" I stretched out my hand, and he dumped an extra slingshot and marble into my palm.

Try as I might, I couldn't even balance the marble in the slingshot. Spot laughed. "We've got a long way to go," he said.

"Oh yeah?"

"Yeah. Ya'll never be as good as me," he continued arrogantly, "but no one is as good as me-"

This shot a little wave of anger through me. I had never reacted well to egomaniacs, no matter if they were my new leader. Fueled by determination, I loaded the marble, yanked back the rope, and let fly.

Unfortunately there were no more glass bottles to break, but I had shattered the remains of one of them.

Spot stopped talking and stared at me. His piercing eyes made me feel a little uncomfortable. I shifted my weight and became very interested in my shoes.

"Ya might be better than Wasp," Spot commented.

I glanced up. "Really? You think so?"

He smirked again. "Nah. Beginner's luck."

Laughing, I lunged for him, but he darted out of my reach. "I can do it again!" I yelled, grinning.

"Sure ya could," laughed Spot.

I picked up the slingshot and the marble and pretended to aim at the glass bottle. Just as I let go, I whirled around and shot it right at his forehead. It made direct contact.

"Ellis Then," he warned. "Ya better watch it. . .."

But the reluctant smile he kept trying to hide was denying his words. I shrieked with laughter as he pulled out his own slingshot again and shot me right in the neck. Soon we were engaged in a full-out slingshot war.


	3. Chapter 3: Jack the Scab?

SPOT

It was nice to forget about it all for a while. Ellis Then was decent with a slingshot. Not anything special- not like me. But okay. Enough for a Brooklynite. She missed a third of the time, I never missed.

She raised her slingshot threateningly. Her hair had almost completely fallen out of the ringlets, loose and messy. She was breathing hard and her eyes were still sparkling. Good. I wanted to keep that light in her eyes, and I would.

How stupid did that sound? But I had to. I would never forgive myself if the light died from her eyes- if that blue-gray mist dimmed- if her eyes shut forever- if she was another Caroline.

That was the first time I had dared to think her name in months.

And that was why, I realized.

It wasn't the mist. She had the same achingly blue eyes as Caroline. Those eyes were one in a million. That's why I wanted to keep the light in her eyes, save her- like I hadn't been able to save Caroline.

Caroline, Caroline, Caroline.

Ellis Then looked at me funny. "You okay?"

To my horror, I found the beginnings of a sob working its way up my throat. The second time I'd ever cried, and now was not the time. Not in front of Ellis Then. I choked it down. It was all Caroline's fault. Even from the grave, she was still messing up my life.

"Fine," I said, clearing my throat.

"Hey, soldier. It's only a game," she remarked, coming over to stand by me. "Hey, I kind of like that. Soldier."

Now I really was fine. What had gotten into me? "Sorry, Ellis Then- wait. What did ya just call me? Ya know I already have a name-"

"Soldier," she mused. "Because you don't let anyone down, and you're the leader of the kick-butt borough, Brooklyn."

"Should we head back?" I said, ignoring this.

Ellis Then had shot me in the forehead with a marble before I could blink. "Soldier! Am I ready to pass to the next level, sir?"

I rubbed my forehead, smirking. "Yes ma'am. Tomorrow I'll teach you how to soak a scab."

"Can't wait," Ellis Then replied staunchly. I had to admit it- the girl was tough. Despite her ringlets.

ELLIS THEN

We passed Jack Kelly carrying the banner by a boxing ring on our way back. I was shocked. He was a traitor! Working for Pulitzer! Dang him!

"Baby born with two heads- must be from Brooklyn," Jack sneered as we walked by. I only laughed with disbelief.

"You realize who's standing next to you, Kelly?" I said. I had still not forgiven him for the disgusting hand kiss. I mean, come on! It was nasty!

Spot was bristling next to me. "Don't think I heard ya right. Now scram before I soak ya, scab."

"That," Jack snarled, "ain't my name."

As Spot's hand flew to his black-and-gold cane, I decided it was time to intervene. I stepped between them. "Jack, there's no need to be rude. You too, Spot," I added over my shoulder when Jack's face turned purple.

"What's the problem?" I continued, ignoring Spot's blustering behind me: "I'm not being rude! He's a scab! He sold us out! Aw, come on, Ellis Then, why-" "Can I help you with something?"

Jack glared at Spot. "Conlon, can ya leave us alone for two seconds?"

Spot swallowed his colossal pride and stepped aside.

"Look, Gr- Ellis. I thought wese had somethin' going, just da two of us," Jack began. "And den ya turn around and sell in Brooklyn. Wit' him!" He jabbed a finger at Spot, who was pretending like he wasn't listening in.

"It was really nice of you to take me in, Jack, especially on such short notice, but now I've gotten used to being a newsie I'd rather sell in Brooklyn-"

"Why?" Jack screeched. "What's Brooklyn got dat Manhattan ain't?"

I wanted to tell him the truth: a better leader. Instead I replied, "My great-grandparents immigrated from England and lived in Brooklyn. Plus, Blink and Mush are falling all over themselves-"

"But-"

"And Spot is training me so I don't completely disgrace Brooklyn. After all, a Brooklyn newsie needs to be able to soak a scab, and really anybody else, and shoot a slingshot, and swim, and charm-"

Jack interrupted, "Now dat is just ridicu-"

"After all," I repeated, clenching my teeth and delivering a low blow, "a Brooklyn newsie needs to know how to soak a scab. That way when us Brooklynites show up and save your weak little behinds, we don't get beaten up ourselves."

Jack's face, still purple, turned the shade of an eggplant. I was impressed in spite of myself. "Why did you sell us out, Jack?" I asked, changing the subject. "It wasn't because of me. Why?"

"It was partially ya. Da other part was da fact dat Pulitzer is takin' me to da trainyards right after dis," Jack said. "Guess which one motivated me more?"

"Where'd ya learn a big word like motivated?" Spot interjected.

"Tell da boys I'm headin' to Santa Fe for me, Ellis." Jack turned back to his papes.

Fury flared deep within me. "Never!" I yelled, losing my temper.

"What-"

"You can at least be man enough to tell them yourself that you're leaving them, breaking their hearts, killing their dreams, ruining their lives!" My words were daggers, slicing into him. He turned towards me.

"Excuse me," said Jack dangerously. "What did ya just say?"

"Was this just a game to you?" My voice broke. "What about Les, Jack? You can tell him his hero is leaving and he'll never see you again! Jack, tell them yourself!"

Spot was barely controlling himself just behind me. His cane was out. That was not a good sign.

Jack took a step closer to me. His eyes were cold as steel. I was suddenly very afraid of him, despite the fact that we were on a bustling street. Why had I mentioned Les? "I'm not his hero. I'm not anyone's hero," he said.

"But you are! You're his hero, and Boots, and Mush, and Sarah- Sarah! They all love you! Jack-"

"Don't ya dare mention Sarah," Jack said, full of unrestrained anger bubbling over the edges, like a volcano. "Don't ya dare."

"Sarah! Sarah will miss you so much-"

Something in him snapped. His eyes were wild and terrifyingly uncontrolled. He turned to face me, and I knew he was beyond reason. He pulled back his fist and punched me in the face.

I gasped, half-surprise, half-pain, as a sharp agony blossomed across my face. I twisted away from him.

He drew back his fist to punch me again.

But Spot was already in front of me. "Excuse me, Jackie boy," he said venomously, "but ya have two seconds to apologize to Brooklyn or I'll soak ya bloody."

Feeling my mouth for lost teeth, I felt a warm trickle on my hand and pulled it away, surprised at the sight of crimson blood covering my hand.

Jack said nothing.

A sudden wave of pain crashed down on me. I doubled over, clutching my face. Black spots danced in front of my vision, blurring it.

Through the scene that was playing out before me, I saw Jack swing wildly at Spot. Spot ducked effortlessly and landed a punch to Jack's face. Jack fell back, wiping blood out of his eyes. He growled and threw himself at Spot. The leader of Brooklyn swore when Jack's fist made contact with his face. He swung around and brought his leg with him, hard, into Jack's stomach.

Jack sputtered out a curse slurred with blood and slumped to the ground, grabbing at his stomach. Blood flew everywhere, all over me.

"Can ya walk?" Spot said shortly to me.

I didn't want to at all, but I nodded.

"Come on."

I stood up and staggered unsteadily after him.

"I can't believe he hit a lady," Spot muttered under his breath.

A spark of anger rose in my chest and strength roared through me. "I. Am. No. Lady. If you ever say that to me again, or treat me like a lady, I'll kick you into next week."

Spot stopped abruptly. I thudded into his back. He turned to face me, his sharp eyes boring holes into my skull. "No matter how many slingshots ya practice wit', ya'll always be a goil. If ya ever threaten me again, I'll kick ya into next week. Now move it."

I nodded, ignoring the pain that now had nothing to do with my bloody face, and hurried after him.


End file.
